#keiisho

[isolaradiale]

after a lot of consideration and many tears, I think it's time to give him a rest. I'll be dropping Caster (Zhuge Liang (Lord El-Melloi II)) from Fate, housed in Lord El-Melloi II's House of Misfits in Archimedes. he may be back, but until then you can, of course, find me on my other blogs, but thank you to everyone who's interacted with my guy for almost 7 years!

He'll be dropped for you!

-- mod altair.

[saintism]

WHEN HE GROANS UPON THE COUCH, there is hardly any hesitation in how she steps forward to place a hand upon the back of it. how long has it been since he has properly tidied this place? even jeanne, herself, was not one to meticulously clean, and yet... ❝ Lord El-Melloi II, ❞ she speaks, the softness of her voice in a strange contrast to how firm her words are.

and much like any servant, it was far too easy for her to continue in lifting the entire couch where he sprawls himself dramatically, effectively dumping him onto the floor with a considerate plop than truly hoisting him. before long, she sets the seat back down, as polite as ever despite the fact she'd just lifted it without sweat to jostle a grown person several times her size from where they were.

❝ While I understand, do you not think it inappropriate to let things fall into this state? ❞

@keiisho

[princesselmelloi]

( @keiisho )

With the Southern Clocktower currently out of commission, Reines knew that she would have to retreat to her old home for the time being. Staying in a ruined foundation simply wasn't an option. Besides, Anda was no longer here, so her brother could no longer demand she play nice with them.

However, it would seem her brother was no better at keeping house than Judar was. Just looking in from the street, she knew she was in for a headache. How incompetent could people have really become without her here? She'd had more faith in him.

"Trimmau."

The maid nodded and took up the lead to the house. With disrepair like this, Reines did not trust there not to be something lurking in the reeds. Similarly, it was also the mystic code that opened the front door to prevent anything from falling upon them or jumping out.

Reines could immediately see she was correct to take these precautions. Inside was somehow worse than the out. She dared not step foot inside yet, instead calling out, "Is it safe to come in?"

[heclingmuzik]

@keiisho

From playing the acoustic guitar to know talking about drinks, it's funny how that happens. "You know, apparently they're not only putting it in tea, but also coffee as well. Must be a new trend, huh?" she strums a string from the guitar and hums with thought, then continues to say:

"I heard that people's stomach started getting upset because of the olive oil in people's drink. I'm a little curious though. What's it taste like? Have you tried?"

[underteika]

@keiisho

Eyes squint at the light. The electricity had been dim; the water turbine was getting old, and they couldn't go out for parts, so the estate was always in relative darkness. Just enough light to make it around, but they'd adjusted to it. The white, sterile lighting in an otherwise sterile room was jarring, and the ceiling blindingly stared back at them. The only pop of color among all the white and chrome is a house plant in the corner of the bedroom.

A thin frame pushes itself up from the bed, muscles weak and screaming. There's still fibers under their nails from trying to crawl across the carpet, palms mottled with reddish, brown, flaking chips of the blood that dried on them. A look down at their clothes... musty, fraying. There's a crisp, singed ring where the bullets ripped through them, covered and soaked in a stiff cloth of blood-soaked band shirt.

("...Okay. I don't think I lived through that. So am I, dead?")

That searing, agonizing hatred they felt moments before... subsided. Perhaps the shock of waking up in such a different environment subsided that haunted rage? ... Wriggling out of the shirt, shoving it under the bed, they chose to wrap the bedsheet around them like a cowl. Their hand presses against their chest.

("...Heart's beating? Maybe I'm not dead?") ... ("...Which means the, uh. The thing is still here.")

Even in this room, they could feel the vague flickers of sorrow beyond the door.

("Okay... okay. Um.")

Their old flip phone is in their pocket, but shows a date far off in the future. The last time they looked at a calendar was forgotten to them, but Gran's funeral was in the 2000's, wasn't it? According to all the paperwork they had to sign.

("Maybe this isn't my phone.") ... ("So I guess... I could go outside.")

The thought of that is terrifying, though. They're not supposed to be around people. Around that outside world. That's what she told them. But...

...

A pale hand tries to find a doorknob to turn, only for the door to slide open with a smooth-sounding click.

("Fancy.")

Their steps are soft and unsure in their socks, and the loose fabric around their ripping jeans makes more sound than they do (aside from the mumbling, of course.) The hallways are just as sterile as the room, long and unremarkable. Part of them wants to think this is a hospital, but the very image of a 'hospital' is blocked from their memory.

What emerges from the room is an empath. Pale, splattered with dried blood, malnourished. The shadows under their eyes look like bruises, and their hair grew out in two tones--one a faded violet dye, and the other a chestnut brown from their roots, streaked with white. They're afraid of making a sound, as if breaking the silence would unleash some horrible monster.

Finally, they see a sign, pointing in a few directions. Rooms 400-450 from the hallway they came from, a mess hall in another direction, with a strange word above them all.

("...Chaldea?")

[feranmut]

CONTEMPARY ARTS WERE NOT LIMITED, never confined to mere things such as paintings, poetry, or even movies, something she would tell anyone who tries to keep something from it all. and yet, she cannot help but find herself a little perplexed by this new medium of video games, specifically the genre known as gacha. standing amid a store that tailors to an array of this entertainment, she was fortunate enough that another patron seemed unbothered in answering a question she had spoken aloud to herself, not to mention knowledgeable of the subject. ❝ Then there are still goals like Yanese chess, merely with drawings upon a screen. But farming? Where do farms come into account? ❞ these terms were newer, though she at least could grasp some of the terminology.

looking upon his screen a smidgen more, there was one thing that tugs at the back of her mind, like strings threatening to unravel a curiosity the moment she opens her mouth to question why every depicted character seems drawn so differently.

❝ And did the artist give no concern at how different each appears in their art? Or was it simply part of the client's request? ❞ even if she didn't exactly do commissions, she was privy enough to know some were made to go astray in their styles, given enough command.

@keiisho

[animasend]

   “What on earth are you talking about?” it’s impossible to mistake, the pure offense at the other mage’s clear insistence that her father was not around no matter what the young girl had said. she was not blind nor was she stupid. olga marie knows who she saw and even upon calling out to the adult did he pause to glance her way before continuing on. she was close, so so close, but then this supposed mage had blocked her path. talking as if he knew her, asking her about people named reines and gray. both unfamiliar names to the girl and, quite frankly, she could care less as to just why he asked or who they were.  

            none of that mattered. but he wasn’t listening to her and there’s only so much she can be adamant on before giving up entirely.

  “ My father-- Director Marisbury-- is here. I saw him. And you’re trying to tell me that he isn’t? Why should I believe what you’re saying? ”

@keiisho​ -- mistified 

[perpetualquestions]

( @keiisho )

“Have you seen AI or Yusaku anywhere?”

It had taken some time for Curiousity to notice her companions were missing. She was out and about often enough that she had assumed their schedules weren’t aligning. 

Only, she had come to realize the house reminded her of Aperture. Still and silent. Abandoned by humans.

So, after weeks of trying to figure out how to find them, Curiousity had finally unearthed the memory of the older human they had seemed to fond of. Since then, she had simply been wandering and knowing she was bound to eventually run into them or him.

[originskey]

☔️ 🍀

Meet the People in My Muse’s Life

☔️ - Someone who Can “Turn Lemonade into Lemons”

"One of my long-time companions used to be worse for that sort of thing. Doubting kindness, shrugging off optimism, thinking of ways a good thing could go wrong, things like that. I expect that of him. What I didn't expect to find that his partner is almost as much of a cynic as him, if not worse. It's a little baffling, given the apparent kindness the man is known for."

🍀 - Someone Lucky

"Colette, one of my son's companions, had a strange luck of her own. She's rather clumsy, but I've yet to see a situation in which it hasn't worked in her favor, somehow. Martel is like that, too... I don't know how they manage to do it."

[dimittere]

a grave mistake to make concerning ganondorf is that he is all brawn. certainly, he's IMPOSING, towering above opposition and striking fear into the hearts of the weak, but he's too a cunning tactician. oh, how it STINGS, the mistakes of his distant past. he'd not admit to them aloud, but just as voraciously in his belief, he would not fail again. being in public spaces has always felt strange - they're built for average humans with average heights - but even more so being in a place of learning. a place where harm would not come to its inhabitants. he honors that, but he certainly doesn't feel comfortable in such an atmosphere. when he lounges in his seat, however, he seems to express otherwise. it is CONFIDENCE that he chooses to ooze, leaning back in the midst of an empty classroom as if it be instead his throne room. to his credit, ganondorf is making good use of the faculties - tomes and notes lined up, piled upon each other in masses, like a FORTRESS of his own doing. there's a squeaking open of the door suddenly, shattering his ruminations in a single second. 

❝are the faculties closed for the night?❞ he drawls, not for a second BUDGING from his seat. 

@keiisho liked for a starter.

[edelbloed]

⠀⠀⠀❛ ⠀An entirely new department dedicated to 'modern magecraft theory'...⠀ ❜ ⠀SHE ⠀speaks slowly, almost as if she's chewing over the words as they come. Being in a place like this, catching a glimpse into the future that lay in store for mankind, is overwhelming enough — but what does the future of magecraft look like ? Baffled and exhilarated, her short exhale briefly disrupts the steam of her coffee. She's grown rather fond of the drink since experimenting with the multitude of options available in this day and age, almost eclipsing her love of tea.

⠀⠀⠀Dorothea crosses one leg over the other, arm folded beneath the table as a hand remains poised just under her chin. Even beneath the shade of her hat, the glimmer of excitement is obvious. ⠀❛ ⠀And how does one adapt the nature of mystics for your more modern times ? I can only imagine the amount of prying eyes that make it all the more difficult... And I somehow have difficulty imagining the Clock Tower being so adaptable in the first place.⠀ ❜ ⠀

⤷ @keiisho : s.c.

[learnspells]

@keiisho

ʚїɞ - "A magic professor? I see... My name is Fern. I am an apprentice under the mage Frieren and have the qualifications of a First Class mage in the world I come from." Fern bowed politely. It was traces of mana that had guided her to this man and she had asked him if he had any ties to magic.

She didn't know if he was strong or not, and this city's rules meant that she couldn't even demonstrate her own talent.

"I can't prove it. Unless you want to see a spell that perfectly cleans and refreshes your clothes?" It could probably take the smell of cigarette smoke out of what he was wearing.

[eiternal]

@keiisho

🗲 "And you said that was "Magecraft"? I've witnessed the magic of the youkai, but that's nothing of the likes I have ever seen before." Ei had been in the city for years at this point and still found things she had never seen before. Largely because she seldom went out unless Miko forced her to. What this man had done might not have been miraculous, but it had been enough to pique her curiosity.

In return she held out her hand to demonstrate an orb of Electro that formed in her palm. "Abilities are limited to a single element in the world I hail from. If you have an affinity for Electro then you can only wield Electro."

[princesselmelloi]

( @keiisho )

“Why is he here? Trimmau, send him away.”

Reines had woken up several days ago knowing the Stars had been up to something again. She had impeccable memory, and yet she had no idea why she had a sense of not-quite-contentment over her residence in Spirale. There was no reason for it. 

If anything, it would seem they had tried placing roots for her here. Why did she have memories of this so called ‘Lord El-Melloi the Second’ being her brother, but no reason for it? Reines felt that she trusted him implicitly, and that he was her favourite toy, but she knew now he was most definitely not family. This was not to mention her neighbour, her ‘magi’, or even her tea store that was just further pressure to stay in place.

It reeked of sloppy work. The Stars had clearly not taken her abilities into account; they had probably been hoping that she would have just accepted the false memories and feelings for this place, like they had done with her doppleganger in Elarips City. 

So while a large part of Reines told her that the visitor to her manor could be trusted, that she should be going down and asking him for his help in figuring out what was going on, she sent her mystic code down instead. She had avoided all her false alliances so far, and she could avoid him for longer still.

“Master does not wish to see you.”

[elfcast]

✲ Scenes familiar to Marcille played in succession, memories experienced from a different point of view this time around, but it didn't make them any easier to bear. The scene of a bedroom with a man laying ill in a cozy bed. He was clearly human, but the girl anxiously sitting beside him was a girl with pointed ears. She looked no older than eight or nine, but she was actually much older.

The scene changed, even though it was the same location. The man was much older now, clearly near the end of his life. But the girl? She had hardly changed, if she had even changed at all. She was clearly crying. Marcille watched from afar, sparing an uncomfortable glance for the unfortunate guest who had stumbled upon this theatre.

"I don't know if I really need to explain this, do I? That's my father and I. Even though I have elven blood, I'm half tall-man as well. He aged so much faster than me, so even though I was born when he was younger, I was still a child even when his age took him." It was the event that had set her on the path she had taken. To search for a way to extend lifespans between the races so that no one had to be parted from their loved ones too soon.

@keiisho

[underteika]

🔔  - for my muse to wake yours from a nightmare

misc action memes

It's not this city, it's the other one The old apartment they had in the cultural sector Falling through the glass in the table to get away from the thing crawling out of the wall

The rooms keep going on and on, through bedrooms they've lived in The walls they've carved tally marks into the wood, their old music and movie posters peeing off the wall, and That Thing still trying to reach through to scratch through their limbs

The same rooms keep appearing in loops, with the only indication being the blood on the floor and the shards they keep cutting their palms onto. Nails dig into what remains of their leg, dragging the empath backward, down to the foyer and the stains on the rug and the rotting smell of iron in the air.

Something else grabs one handful of their shirt at the shoulders, then two, yanking them sharply backward--

----------------------------------------------------------------

--Those same hands kept them from rolling off of the sofa. The sleeve that wipes their mouth comes back smeared with red, and their tongue feels sore in their mouth. ("Must've bit it running...")

His words are stern, but soothing. Breathe. Calm down. Take a few seconds... And while Anda doesn't directly look at the professor, they do put up a shaky hand as the other's goes to reach for a cigar case.

("...You don't have to do that, I'll be fine.")

Lord El Melloi II hasn't stated what lighting those do outright, but the empath has caught on for some time. Something about the smoke calms people down and gives something of an air of clarity to anyone in range...

The two sit in silence still, for a few minutes. Ever since Anda returned, the nightmares had been more vivid. Of something chasing them through the dark of the old estate, dragging them back. The phantom pains in their leg, the feeling of losing their strength... Usually, they don't end with the other pulling them out.

He knows these are new. They both do.

"...I don't really know how to make them stop."

" ..... .. ....... ..... .... ....... "

"...Yeah. I'll try that. I, uh..." ("I definitely don't feel like going back to sleep right this second, though...")